Venitzia
by remyohh
Summary: His tall body leaned against the mirror frame that was currently open, exposing a tunnel. Out came a cool draft, spreading over the room like a blanket, he watched as goosebumps erupted over her pale skin. He felt a need stir in him, E/C Future
1. Pilot

_A/N: _**Hi everyone! This is Remy, I just wanted to give a brief thing about this story. My crazed stepmother decided than fanfiction was for girls who waste their lives and then she read one of my stories with a sex scene and was appalled that I would write something like that. Shes just an old prude. So she deleted my account while I was at school one day, and then our computer crashed about a year later. I wasn't able to transfer the files to my new laptop before it crashed so all my stories that I wrote are gone. Anyway, this is the sequel to my Phantom story, but before you cringe and click the back button, this is now a story all its own. I'm going to pretend like my original story '**When a Star Dies**' didn't happen and I'll just incorporate it into this story. That just means more chapter and a thicker plot, yay for all of you that enjoy that! So please read and review, tell us what you think. And thank you t my cousin Ellie, or Ellie-Ohhh, for letting me post this on hers until we switched it to mine. She's helping me with this story anyway so, she gets some of the glory. **

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He sat in the pit as he normally did, practicing his violin as the ballet rats rehearsed and rehearsed the same numbers over again. But that was Madame Giry for you, she was a stickler for perfection, and since most of her prized ballerinas were now either gone or retired, she was left with training the young girls to perfection. Time had been well to Madame Giry, she was old in years before he and his brother were even born, and yet she still continued to teach at the Opera Populaire. Mother said she would probably keep on teaching until the day the angels took her to heaven. The little Giry, Aunt Meg, was a retired Prima Ballerina, but he had an idea that she would return in time. It wasn't as though Aunt Meg and his mother were that old anyway.

He readjusted the music sheets on his stand, placing the violin more comfortably under his chin and began to play. He looked up from the sheet music and into the audience, where his twin was sitting, sketching the ballerinas. They looked alike, yet so undeniably different. Their looks were more inclined toward their father, as their sister Misha respectively looked the part of their mother. Demitri's shaggy hair was a bit darker than his, a bit straighter, their eyes were the same pale green but his were a tad hazel. They were the same height, weight, build, same pallid complexion, and slim artistic fingers. They were different, despite their looks, Demitri excelled in the arts, sketching, painting, writing, anything. He was bold and brash, sarcastic and mischievous, with a smirk on his lips and the quirk of his brow he could usually get away with anything. He, on the other hand, was shy and reserved, calculating yet warm. He supposed he was so shy because of the porcelain mask that molded into the right side of his face, just like his father, or maybe he had always been this way. He was more musically inclined, although they were all gifted with the talent of singing from both sides, he took up the music.

As he thought about his brother he couldn't help but thing about parents, his younger sister, his "cousins" or Aunt Meg's children, his Uncle Nadir. Speaking of Nadir, he was returning from his trip to Persia, and that return was always filled with gifts, little trinkets, and stories of the wonderous land. Nadir was their god father and he hadn't remembered a time in his life that the dark skinned man wasn't there; With the exception of his trips to his homeland of course.

He hadn't noticed that Madame Giry had stopped yelling or that the ballet rats had stopped for a break. He hadn't noticed the girl leaning against the piano, gazing at him softly, or his brothers snicker from the audience as he kept drawing. As the song came to an end he removed the instrument from under his chin and looked up, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he finally caught sight of the ballerina in front of him. She was leaning on the piano, her elbows placed on its top, supporting her head. She was tall, as to be expected, but she wasn't tall and willowy like most of the other rats, or like Aunt Meg for that matter. She was thin without being skinny, like his mother, his eyes traveled up the standard pink leotard she wore to her rounded breasts. His eyes snapped up quickly before it could be classified as staring, her eyes were wide, a pale teal color covered by thick lashes. Her hair was a dark golden like the color of burnt toast and it was in a braid, low on the side of her head, a thin headband held back her hair in the front, but hours of routines had let whips escape and all around her face is little wavy tendrils. She wasn't spectacularly beautiful, he had seen much prettier girls living here in the Opera House all his life, but there was just something about her that he found...intriguing.

"You play beautifully."

He set down his violin on the music stand and looked down sheepishly. "Thank you." She smiled at his shyness, the way he wouldn't meet her gaze. "I'm Marjorie."

He glanced up at her and returned her small smile. "Theo."

She stood from her leaning position to face him more, "So, Theo, do you play anymore instruments besides the violin?" her tone could've been seductive as she played with the curl of her hair, attempting to make conversation only so she could get something from him. He had seen it happen so many times to Demitri, who the girls usually talked to, instead her voice was light with sincere curiosity and airy conversation.

It shocked him. "Uh, yeah, I, uh, play the piano, among various other instruments but piano and violin are my favorites."

"I love the piano, I can't play that well, I only know a few childhood rhymes but I just love the way it sounds." She smiled at him, shyly this time.

He wasn't quite sure how to respond to this, girls smiling and asking questions and giving compliments were all Demitri's forte. People of the female species tended to stay away from him, he knew it was because of the mask, his reclusive nature. Which is why he found it odd that this lovely faced ballet rat all of a sudden found him interesting to talk to. But he couldn't bring himself to believe that she only talked to him because she needed something, he didn't have anything she could need and that was Demitri's department anyway. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to believe she was just only curious about his music, but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, for now.

"Would you play something for me?"

He thought about it for a moment, before nodding his head and went to sit in front of the piano. He broke into a song that he wrote, it was soft, slow, sensual, and he had no idea why he chose that song to play.

"So, Marjorie, you said you could play?"

She smiled shyly, body subconsciously swaying slightly to the music he produced. "Nothing like this, just old nursery rhymes my mother used to hum to me." She laughed a little, "I'm slightly musically challenged. I suppose I'll just stick to dancing."

"How did you get into Ballet?"

"Well, my mother was a ballerina here then moved to England where she became the Prima Ballerina. She enrolled me in the Opera ballet when I was old enough, then she got sick and we moved back Paris because it was her home and she wanted to be home when she died. I never met my father, so before she was put on bed rest she sent me here to live and train."

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother."

Although he had never met her, he didn't know a stitch about her other than what she'd told him, there was a sincerity in his voice, he was truly sorry to hear about her mother's passing. It touched her. "Thanks, I've come to terms with it. People die and life moves on."

"Very mature of you."

"Why thank you. I know I might look like some dumb, slightly blond, ballet rat but come on, lets be serious here." She leaned in closer, over the piano to stage whisper over his music. "I think I'm the only one up there with a lick of sense."

To prove her point further she nodded her head to the stage, where most of the girls were still sitting, taking their break. There stood a few of the more "beautiful and talented" girls, one of them told the other a simple joke, in which the other replied with a blank stare then a turn of the head and a shrug of her thin shoulders. Marjorie shook her head and let out a small chuckle, Theo smiled and laughed along.

"So, your a semi-piano playing ballerina who out-wits her fellow rats. Tell me, what else can you do?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "Not much. I always wished I could sing, be the Prima Donna..." she gazed off over his shoulders, a smile on her face. "Although, I know that's never gonna happen. Still, dreams are dreams, right?"

"I'm sure your voice isn't horrible." He watched as her eyebrows raised in speculation. "I've come to the conclusion that everyone can sing, its just a matter of how well."

"If you say so buddy." She watched this long fingers run over the ivory keys with ease and grace she knew she would never have. She wondered what else those elegant fingers could do, what other sounds they could produce...

"Come, sing for me."

He had stopped playing to look solely at her, she scoffed playfully. "Yeah, right." He quirked his brow in a why. "Your mothers Christine Daae, she probably sings to you all the time."

He chuckled, "I've come to understand that my mother has an uncommonly pure pitch and voice. I don't expect everyone to sound like her, so come, sing for me."

She played with the end of her braid, twirling the curled end, she looked slightly uneasy. "I can pretty much play anything you want." He watched as she chewed on her bottom lip for a moment in thought, then she sighed and nodded.

"Okay, fine. Uh, start out in a C and uh..."

He could tell she wasn't sure what tune the rest of the song was in, he found her stuttering endearing. "Just sing, I'll follow you and figure it out." He gave her a reassuring smile and waited for her to sing so he could play.

_"All that's known  
In History, in Science  
Overthrown  
At school, at home, by blind men_

You doubt them  
And soon they bark and hound you-  
Till everything you say is just another bad about you

He followed the waver of her voice, starting with the simple C note and creating a song that fit the way her voice was carrying. He could tell she was trying not to sing entirely too loud, as to not call attention to herself from the other girls. He didn't blame her, he knew just how catty teenage girls could be.

_  
All they say  
Is "Trust in What is Written"  
Wars are made  
And somehow that is wisdom_

Thought is suspect  
And money is their idol  
And nothing is okay unless it's scripted in their Bible

He knew why she kept her eyes down, on him and not on the stage. He could see some of the girls pointing and whispering toward them, she was embarrassed. Although, he didn't know why, it wasn't like she was terrible.

_  
But I know  
There's so much more to find-  
Just in looking through myself  
And not at them_

Still, I know  
To trust my own true mind  
And to say: there's a way through this

On I go  
To wonder and to learning  
Name the stars and know their dark returning

I'm calling  
To know the world's true yearning-  
The hunger that a child feels for everything they're shown

You watch me-  
Just watch me-  
I'm calling  
And one day all will know

You watch me-  
Just watch me-  
I'm calling, I'm calling.  
And one day all will know"

He felt the angst, the conviction in her voice at the end of the song. No, she wasn't amazing, she didn't have the light, airy voice of an angel. But it held a passion, it was a tad deeper than most of the female singers he'd heard, but then again in Opera women's voices ranged. She needed training, major training if she was serious about her fantasy of becoming a Prima Donna, it would be a long shot, but it wouldn't be impossible for her to become a chorus girl if she had truly wanted to.

"So..." He could feel the apprehsension coming off her in waves, she actually cared what he thought? The only people to actually give a shit about his opinion were his family members, the Giry's, Nadir, and the Opera Composer Claude who he had become friends with when he was accepted into the orchestra.

"So...your not terrible." He watched her visibly relax and smile. He liked her smile, and he found he wanted to keep it there. That startled him. "If you wanted to sing, like for real, you'd need a respectable tutor. You need to learn to control your breathing better and," He stood from his spot on the piano bench and leaned over to where she stood beside the piano. He planced his large hand lightly over her diaphragm. "you need to sing from here, not your lungs. But all in all, I don't think it would be that hard for you to become a chorus girl."

He removed his cold hand, it left goosebumps on her skin. Even threw her leotard she could feel it, the cold that emanated from him, she didn't mind though, she hated to be hot. She nodded her head at his notes watched as he stood before her, just standing quietly. He was rambling on about something music related but she couldn't help but look him over. He stood tall, towering a few inches over her, he was broad without being bulky with wide shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist. She found a word to describe him: Long. He was long, his fingers, his arms, his legs, his torso. He was wearing black dress pants that fit him nicely, a white button down, that had only the first button undone and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing his powerful forearms and brilliant hands. Her eyes traveled up the column of his neck to the strong jawline it supported, his skin was pallid, worse than hers, the porceline mask almost blending into the skin.

That mask. She wondered about that mask, boy did she wonder. She may have been the bouisterous ballerina that you couldn't help but love despit her loud presence, but she wasn't so rude that she would outright ask about it. She did have some decency and common sense. The left side of his face was just so, alluring though. His dark hair was tousled softly across his eyes in waves, he attempted to part it on the left side, so his hair hid the top part of his mask. His eyes were a pale green outlined in dark lashes. She wondered how any girl had resisted him, he was smart, talented, handsome, but it was that mask that no one could seem to get past.

She found herself stuck in his eyes, she didn't even realize he had stopped talking about music and had asked her a question. It wasn't until the small smile appeared on his lips that she shook herself out of it. "Uh, sure."

His smile widened, "You have no idea what I asked you, do you."

"Not a clue."

He laughed and was pleased to find she had laughed along with him. "Its alright, I tend to have that affect on people." Although his tone was playful, his gaze dropped down to where his hand was resting on the piano.

"I wasn't staring at your mask if that's what you were thinking."

He was surprised at her. No one had the audacity to say it to his face, no one with respect anyway. They would stare at it, never looking really at him, no one saw past the mask. They would never vocalize it either, they would pretend not to notice it and feign ignorance about it. The only people to ever call him out on it were the nasties, they were the people who stared in morbid horror and called him 'Freak' and 'Devil Spawn'. It was like having a physical defect, everyone notices but only the assholes point it out. The only people who he knew honestly didn't care and forgot about it where the people he considered family, close family. Then came this girl with her own category all together, he knew she looked past his mask, meeting his eyes at all times, truly interested in what he had to say, with her teal eyes and smooth voice. She had pointed out his flaw with a light conversational air about it, this one was interesting, this one he'd have to hang on to...

"I know you weren't, most people do though. They try to forget that its there, but they do a bad job at hiding it."

He chuckled lightly and looked into her eyes. "I know you have a mask, there's no reason to pretend its not there. But, I happen to think it just makes you more mysterious." She dropped her voice deeper and waggled her eyebrows playfully at him.

He couldn't help but laugh, "Mysterious, really." she nodded her head. "Oh yeah, the elusive Theo Daae-Destler with his white mask and introverted ways and his outgoing twin brother Demitri Daae-Destler who always seemed to be sketching something and flirting with someone. Oh yes, you two are very much talked about amongst the rats, but everyone agrees your the more mysterious one. You never seem to talk to anyone besides Demitri and the Giry's, people say you never leave, that you live here in the Opera house. None of the rats are brave enough to come and talk to you, they seem to be afraid of what you'll say," She smiled and thought about it for a second. "or won't."

His brows furrowed as a thought came to him. "But, your the only one brave enough." He said it as if their whole meeting made sense now.

"I wasn't dared to come over here if that's what your thinking."

"You seem pretty sure you know what I'm thinking."

"I'm just a good guesser."

They stared at each other for a while, just standing there next to the piano, both thinking different things as they stared into the depths of the others eyes. They didn't notice Madame Giry standing on stage, tapping her cane, or the corps line up on stage for the end of break. They didn't notice Demitri's chuckle from the audience as Madame Giry lined the girls up and counted and concluded one of her ballerinas was missing. They didn't notice as she turned around and looked down, into the orchestra pit, clearing her throat several times before she wacked Theo in the back of the head lightly with her cane.

He cried out, a hand shooting up to rub the back of his head, turning to find the raised eyebrows and calm face of Madame Antoinette Giry. "Theo James, will you please stop distracting my ballerinas. We do have an Opera to put on." She turned her gaze from him to Marjorie. "DuBois! Up, in line now!"

"Yes, Madame." She said hurriedly.

She gave them one last icy glance before turning back to her girls, muttering to herself about how an Opera House was no place for seventeen year old boys to live and what was it with Destler men and their ballerinas. Marjorie turned her gaze back to Theo, her eyes wide. "So you do live here."

He rolled his eyes at her and she smiled. "Goodbye Marjorie." She walked behind him to the stage, stepped on the piano stool and jumped onto the stage, she turned and walked backwards. "I'll see you later Theo."

She turned back around and hurried to her spot in line, keeping her eyes on her pointe shoes and biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling. Theo watched and shook his head in amusement, he picked up his violin, putting it in its case, and started collecting the sheet music. Demitri appeared in front of him, leaning against the outside of the pit, looking down at his twin, smirking.

"Shes cute."

He looked up from where he was putting his things away and met his brothers hazel eyes. "Shut up." Demitri looked mock appalled. "I was simply commenting on your girlfriend's - "

"Shes not my girlfriend."

His voice came out in a harsh whisper, glancing repeatedly toward the stage where the girls had began their routine. Demitri held up his hands in a accusatory manner as Theo emerged from the pit and walked past him, around the stage to one of the maintenance doors. Demitri followed suite, nagging him the whole way as they walked down hallways, past many dancers and singers, into a closet and through a passage way down to the cellars.

"So do tell me dear brother, if you don't like her "that way", as you so eloquently put it, then why are you getting so defensive when I ask about her?"

Theo walked ahead of him, attempting to get away from him quicker, to bad Demitri had always been a tad more athletic than his brother. Demitri walked in front of Theo, walking backwards so he could look at his brother at the same time. They had been graced with balance and awareness also from their father, but at the moment Theo really wished they hadn't so Demitri would trip and stop bothering him.

"I really don't unnderstand why your being like this, I mean if you really like her - "

"I'm not acting like anything, I'm just not going to let you poke fun at me over a girl I just befriended today."

"I'm not poking fun at you, I'm just being your brother. So, tell me about her. Shes pretty, and not in a statuesque way either."

He sighed, he knew that Demitri wasn't going to drop it until he gave him some kind of information. "Her name is Marjorie DuBouis, her mother was a Prima Ballerina in London, she dreams to be a Prima Donna - "

"Okay, I didn't ask for her lifes story, I just asked for you to tell me about her, from your perspective."

"I think shes pretty, for a ballet rat, shes intriguing and I can't figure out what it is that draws me in. She needs a tutor, but she doesn't have a horrid singing voice, she could get into the chorus easily if she tried. Shes boisterous and not afraid to speak her mind and," He looked down at his feet while they walked, Demitri noticing this. "she looked me in the eyes from the moment she started talking to me."

He hadn't meant to, but as soon as his brother said that his eyebrows raised. Sure, it was no big deal to him what the right side of Theo's face looked like, or the fact that he wore a white porcelain mask. Their father had the same thing, the same mask, it didn't bother any of them, it was the outsiders he worried about. No one, since they were children, looked Theo in the eyes when they first met him, their eyes stayed glued to the mask obscuring the right side of his face. He knew this saddened his twin, and as much as Theo told them he didn't mind it anymore, he knew it hurt his twin. So, when he was told that someone, a mere ballet girl, had done what no one, save their loved ones, seemed capable of doing surprised him to say the least.

"You need to become best friends with this girl and... marry her or something."

Theo let a smile slip onto his face and a chuckle from within escape at his brothers foolishness. "Dem, shut up."

"Hey, I'm just saying." He looked excited as he pulled out his sketch pad. "Want to see my drawing?"

Theo grinned. "Sure." He took the pad from Demitri, careful not to smudge the dark pencil. It was a collage of random musings, one of the girls doing a Croise Devant pose, one girl lazily standing on the tips of her pointe shoes gazing off into space, Madame Giry angrily staring at... him and Marjorie? He looked up at his brother who nodded, "Good, isn't it."

It was the moment after he had stood up to show her the proper place to breathe from, his hand was resting on the piano, she stood on the pointes of her shoes gazing up at him with a smile on her face, her hands clasped idly behind her back. The picture was in profile, so the two of them were facing each other. He shook his head, it was rather good, he just wished it wasn't of him and his new found friend.

"I think I'll call it, 'You breathe from here.' Got a nice ring, doesn't it?"

He punched him in the shoulder at his teasing remark about when he showed Marjorie where to breathe from. "I'm not quite sure if I got her bust right though. You were staring at it, does it look alright to you?" He felt a blush come to cheeks at Demitri's remark, his voice was full of innocence he didn't posses.

Grabbing the pad from Theo's hands he turned and sprinted forward, laughing as his brother chased him down the stone corridor. Obscenities were thrown and laughing was all that could be heard from one of the Daae-Destler boys, all the way down until they made it to the shore where the gondola stood waiting. Demitri tried to jump in it before Theo could reach him, but Theo jumped on him at the last second and they both came tumbling down onto the ground. They wrestled for a couple of minutes before Theo pinned Demitri down, locking his thighs and putting his hands above his head.

"Say it."

"No!"

"Say it!

"NO!

"SAY IT!"

"NO!"

Theo twisted his wrists, "Just say it!"

"Fine!"

He sighed and shifted under the weight of his brother, "I'm...I'm a....I'm not saying it!"

"Say. It."

"I'm a...grade 'A'..._fop_. There! Are you happy now, Oh King of the World?"

"I don't need your sarcasm Demitri, I get enough of it from Father."

He pushed off the ground and off of Demitri, helping him up by the arm. They brushed the dirt off their black pants got into the boat, rowing across the dead lake to their home. They could hear their mother's heavenly voice flitter through the air and their fathers cooking as well, Theo heard a hearty laugh that could only belong to Nadir.

Demitri looked to him excitedly, "Uncle Nadir." "Uncle Nadir." They answered together and smiled, they knew exactly what that meant, and they rowed faster to get across the lake.

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**A/N: So not exactly Erik/Christine. Although its their children. Like I said, it was suppose to be a sequel but I'm just going to make it start from the future instead. How many original non-cliche stories start like this? Huh? That's right, didn't think many. So I promise you, there will be juicy E/C scenes as well as the lives of their children, Meg's children. I'll throw in how they got together too, I'll do a couple of chapters about that. Maybe we'll go back and fourth? What do you think? I'll take ideas and suggestions, this story is always prone to change but for now I think I have a pretty good idea of where its headed. Oh, and I dislike Raoul so I'm not sure if I'm going to have him ruining everything. But...maybe his son could ruin...I dunno, what do you guys think? We have yet to meet their daughter, so maybe there could be a little Raoul's spawn -cough- son could have some part in Christine and Erik's daughters life? Ohh I can see Erik now. Tell me what you think!**


	2. Did someone say, Adventure?

Why thank you to my lovely three reviewers! Here's the next chapter in this super original story, tell me what you think. Ideas, comments, questions, I love them all. Oh, next chapter most all written! and next up we have some Demitri/girl action, we meet the other Daae-Destler and her bestest friend Molly Giry. Tell me what you think!

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He glanced at the clock on the wall, it was about that time, time when Madame Giry would break the girls for lunch. He had seen her everyday since they first met, on all of her breaks she would come and sit with him in the Orchestra pit, chatting with him until they heard the shrill call that had the ballerinas running. He wasn't sure how long it had been since she first wondered down to listen to him play, he had seen her so much that the days just seemed to bleed together. Not that he was complaining, he had found out quickly that he enjoyed her company immensely. She called to him, like an unwritten song, expressing things he never thought she would care about. She was funny, he hadn't expected her dry wit and sarcasm, so like his father's, yet with a wide smile to lessen the blow. She was intelligent, not uncommonly so, like he, but still enough to rouse his interest and keep him thinking.

He had even learned things about her over the coarse of his time with her so far, she liked to read, she hated roses because she claimed everyone adored roses and although beautiful, they became too cliche, she liked being sung to, she hated to be hot, her favorite food was anything involving chicken, she had a sweet tooth for chocolate, she despised corsets and apparently she liked to be in little as clothing as possible. Of course he had learned various other things, but those were the ones that stuck out in his mind.

He sat at the piano, subconciously playing, as he looked around the empty stage, for once missing the sound of the rats above him. They had a costume fitting earlier and left with Madame Giry upstairs to where the costume deptartment resided, they should've been back already to resume their rehearsal, he wondered what was taking them so long.

He heard her before he saw her, the thumps of her feet on the stage. He looked up and saw her running over to the edge of the stage, where she collapsed, breathing heavily, gazing up at the bright lights of the chandelier. She turned to face him, still lying on her back. "Where are the other rats?"

She smiled, her breathing still slightly labored. "Well, we were up in the costume room when Giovanna collapsed! She just fainted right there, in the middle of her fitting! And when she fell, she hit Madame DeMill and the sewing pin got lodged in her hand! It went right through! So Madame Giry cancelled rehearsal for the rest of the day, saying we'd had enough excitement."

"So, why can't you breathe properly?"

She looked at him as though it were obvious. "Well, we had been stuck up there longer than expected, so when she said we had off I booked it down here."

He let out a chuckle, "Why would you run all the way down here just to meet me." she grinned sheepishly and looked away. "Well, I, I thought you might leave."

He was shocked for a moment, she was worried about _him _not wanting to see her? "That's ridiculous, I would've waited for you." He said it as though it were the most common thing in the world, like she was stupid for even thinking such a thing.

She looked away from his eyes at that, hiding the small smile on her face. He didn't seem to notice his statements effect on her, it touched her that he wanted to be with her enough that he would wait for her until she came to him.

"So, you have the rest of the day off?"

She sat up right, smiling, and swung her legs over the edge of the stage. "Yup, and it's only lunchtime!" He couldn't help but smile at her exuberance, what would they do with all their time together? Flashes of what his subconscious, overly hormonal teenage boy, wanted to do danced before his eyes. He blinked them away, watching as she jumped down from the stage to stand next to where he was sitting at the piano. Her long legs perfectly stretched as she leaned against the piano, lifted her leg to 'pop' her hip. He had learned that dancers joints often got jammed from being in the same positions for so long, so when they stretched out it was to crack their stiff ligaments. But, it still didn't help the desires running through him at the sight of her very obvious flexibility...

"We have so much time...lets do something exciting! Something spontaneous, like...go on an adventure!"

She was talking animatedly with her hands, her pale eyes wide with excitement. She wanted to go on an adventure? In the Opera House? Was she nuts, didn't she hear the stories the chorus girls and fellow rats told before bed. The stagehands drunken ramblings after the shows. The Opera Ghost, or the Phantom as the girls liked to call him, who nearly caused the Opera Populaire to close from a fire, who stole one of its finest performers right out from the Vicomte de Changy's nose, who apparently lives below in the old catacombs from the Medieval period. She certainly was different from the rest of them, and he couldn't help but stare at her strangely at her request.

"What?"

"You want to go on an adventure...here?"

It was her turn to glance upon him strangely, "Well, that is what I said, isn't it?" she glanced into his eyes, as if reading his mind almost. "Ah, I know what this is about. Your frightened of the Opera Ghost, aren't you."

He had to try not to scoff, if only she knew. Afraid of the Opera Ghost? Well, no he wasn't particularly afraid of him, only when he was in a rage or when he had done something to displease him. The Opera Ghost was his father, and after all, what son wasn't a little frightened of his father. She didn't know that though, no one seemed to which he found most strange and quite funny. He wore a half-mask, just like the Phantom, his last name was Daae-Destler, and although no one knew of the Phantom's true identity, they certainly knew of his Mother's. It was no secret, the Phantom of the Opera had taken Christine as his own, giving her a chance to be with her "beloved" Vicomte, yet she chose to stay with him, the monster. Sure, no one knew what became of them, they had just assumed...well he wasn't really sure what they had assumed, because everyone here still feared the Opera Ghost, still believed he lived below. So then, what of Christine Daae?

Little did they know Erik and Christine had wed and did in fact live beneath the Opera House, that they also had a house in the country, hours away from Paris where they had stayed for a long while. They had children, twin boys and a daughter, and only returned to the Opera Populaire when their children had expressed a love for music and the arts, and wanted to be trained properly. So they lived below during the Opera Season and went away to their home in the country when it had ended. He was honestly surprised no one had figured it out yet, sure Madame Giry knew as well as a few other choice people, and now he had a feeling Marjorie suspected as well, but other than that these people really were imbeciles.

In truth, she knew the Phantom wasn't a myth. She had seen the shadows from the mirror that resided in the dorms, she had seen Madame Giry speak in hushed tones to shadows, she knew there had to be some relation between Theo and the Opera Ghost. She wanted to know what became of Christine Daae, the chorus girl with the voice of an angel, and her love affair with the devil himself. Was she happy? Did she regret her mistake? Did she ever see sunlight, or were they confined to the catacombs that lay beneath? She so much wanted to know and she wanted to know of this boy in front of her, so much. With his piercing eyes, introverted nature, regal speech...

Daae-Destler, obviously his mother married the monster - the man, she corrected, so did that mean the Phantom had a name? Did that mean Theo and Demitri, their sister Misha...they were the product of music, beautiful music, and an age old tale of beauty and the beast...

He watched her gaze drift off, her brows scrunched in thought, as she attempted to figure out the riddle within. He knew she was close, she wasn't stupid or blind as the others seemed to be. She had all the pieces, she just needed to complete the puzzle. He watched in fascination, they were seafoam in color but at the moment they looked like a raging storm as her eyes glazed over with realization. She brought her gaze up to meet his, his green eyes were already settled upon hers. Her mouth opened to speak, but he cut her off by standing up.

He held out his hand to her, "Do you trust me?" their contact never breaking when she placed her hand in his larger one. "Yes."

He smiled, it almost appeared sinister, like she didn't make the right choice in saying yes, yet she was not afraid. He tugged her hand and their trance seemed to break, bringing them back into reality. "Then we have an adventure to go on."

She smiled widely, grasping his hand tighter and followed him as he began walking faster. They raced out of the theatre and into the main entryway, he pulled her up the large stairs, then again to the left, going up. She realized that they were near where the private boxes where located, but they walked past them, her hand still held firmly in his. He took her through a door that lead up, and they ended up in a utility room. She looked around, the walls were covered in horrid wallpaper, peeling from age, there were mops and brooms everywhere. She looked up at him with eyebrows raised, this was what he wanted to show her?

He smiled and opened a door in front of them, nudging her with their entwined hands to go first. She looked at him curiously before stepping outside the door and onto...a catwalk? She held his hand a little tighter, holding onto the railing with her free hand, he seemed to walk perfectly fine up here and she cursed herself for acting so childish. He moved them along until they were facing center stage, and he heard her gasp of surprise. It was beautiful, simply breathtaking. From where they stood, she had an excellent view of the stage and the chandelier above. It was like they were apart of the ceiling, part of the exquisite painting, part of heaven itself. It all looked so serene and peaceful with no one on stage or in the audience, it was quite except for their breathing, and she had never been anyplace more peaceful.

As if reading her mind, he shook his head and smiled, his mouth close to her ear. "This is just the beginning." His whisper was deep, seductive without trying, it sent goosebumps along her skin, and she wasn't sure but she could've sworn there was a second meaning in that phrase.

She turned her head to look at him, almost catching his lips with her own. He kept her gaze as he pulled her slowly to follow him, through a different secret door. They were walking through a dark stone hallway, it got smaller and thinner as time went on. She felt as though they had been walking for hours, when it reality it was only a few minutes. He released her hand from his, "Hold on." then proceeded to move something heavy out of the way, sunlight slowly flowing around them. He turned back to look at her, the sun created this glow in the darkness around her, making the blond in her hair stand out and her pale skin gleam. She looked beautiful.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto...the roof?! She held onto him tighter, they were on the roof, so very close to the edge and all he could do was chuckle in her ear. He moved with the grace of a wild cat, grace the best of dancers didn't possess, she envied him. He lead her to more safe ground and stood behind her holding her waist, as she looked out at the city of Paris. Winter was fast approaching, so it was chilly and wind whipped at her hair and cheeks, but she couldn't bring herself to mind. It was literally quite breathtaking, the way the sun rose over the Parisian streets and people walked all around. She almost felt like she was flying.

"This is where I come to think." His voice was no louder than a whisper, yet it startled her because it had been silent for so long. "Sometimes, it just gets too loud in there, too distracting. I don't know how Demitri does it, he loves the chaos of the theatre. I suppose I do too, to an extent. But here, here it's like nothing exists, just sky and fresh air. Its so peaceful."

She had listened to him talk and watched as he meandered around the roof top, idly jumping on stone statues and kicking pebbles with his shoes. He seemed like a child in that moment, and for all his worldliness and maturity, he was really just a boy at heart. She wondered if anyone else had made that discovery about him, or if she was the first one. The sun gleamed off the white porcelain of his mask, she had honestly forgotten about it until that moment. She wondered what was under there, were they bruises, scars, burns, what? She would never breech his personal space and rip it off, but she couldn't help but wonder. Even if curiosity killed the cat, the Phantom never killed Christine and she had seen what lie beneath. She couldn't help but wonder if it would be the same case with her, if she saw what lie beneath would she be eternally his? Would he fall into a fit of rage and she would never be seen again?

No, that seemed more Demitri's style, Theo was too gentle, too nice. She shook her head, why was she thinking about this with him standing next to her, staring out at the beauty that was Paris from above. She trusted him, he wouldn't harm her. And she didn't care about his mask, no matter how much it plauged her with wonder, she didn't care. He was Theo, he was her friend, she liked him, it didn't matter.

He looked over at her and saw the way her brows furrowed in thought, he wondered what she was thinking of. He saw how red her smooth skin was becoming from the cold and knew it was time to get back inside before they both caught sickness. He grabbed her hand softly and smiled when she looked at him. She returned the smiled and he pulled her over to one of the smaller gargoyles, pushing the wing aside and waited for her to go first. She made to go in but paused and turned to him, "Theo," he looked into her eyes. "can I see it?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, confused with her question. "Where you live, can I see it?"

He bit his bottom lip for a moment, thinking, before bringing his eyes back up to meet hers. "You have to promise me." She waited patiently for him to find the correct words to use. "You have to swear that no matter what, you won't tell. I'm trusting you Marjorie."

"I promise."

He grasped her hand tightly, looking into her eyes but she felt as though he was looking at her very soul. "Okay then." He let go of her hand and let her wonder into the darkness with him close behind, he pushed the wing back into place once they were inside. He took her hand in his and walked in front of her, it had taken a while but he was able to roughly see in the dark, a night vision of sorts.

He thought about where he was taking her, that he was actually going to do it, bring her down into the place that no one ever dared come to but also thought about. He knew it was natural for her to be curious, everyone in the entire theatre was and the rumors about his family, more specifically his father, certainly didn't help matters. He had never really thought he'd take anyone down there, he had no need to, he didn't have friends. He looked over to the girl walking beside him, talking softly about something funny that happened during rehearsal the other day, he found her beautiful and interesting. But, was that really enough to bring her down into his domain?

He felt her clutch his hand a little tighter as they saw light coming up ahead and he heard a squeak as he pulled her down a tunnel away from it. He could tell she wanted to ask him questions about where they were and where they were going but she wouldn't, she was trusting him. He felt an unexplainable feeling bubble up in his chest and his smile widened. He pushed at part of the wall and it opened, revealing a lit hallway and she put a hand in front of her eyes, shielding them.

"Where are we?"

"Across from the Prima Donna's dressing room."

He said it with such an air of nonchalant that it almost made her laugh, it this was everyday stuff that she should've just known. She watched as he looked down each end of the hallways before jumping down and pulling her out, he picked up the piece of _wall_ off the floor and putting back. As he set it back into place, it looked as though it had never moved... She ran her fingers over the wall trying to find the creases that made it a trap door, but couldn't find them. It amazed her, where did they find these places, had they always just been there?

"Come on."

She turned to his whispering form and walked over to the Diva's door with him. "Were going in there?"

He smiled at her and opened the door quickly and ushered her in. She had never been in the Prima Donna's room, it wasn't much different from the Prima Ballerina's, just a bit more luxurious she supposed. She watched as he walked over to the full length mirror and stared at it for a moment.

"So, is this part of the tour too or do you just like to raid the Diva's things while she's not looking."

He chuckled from where he was manhandling the mirror, seemingly looking for something. "That would be a no, I have nothing but a bitter taste in my mouth for Vivianne de Changy or her cousins."

It was true, she was utterly the worst Prima Donna the Opera Populaire had ever seen, even worse than the Italian Carlotta Gucielli who used to reside here before the fire and her ultimate retreat back to Italy. Vivianne was the daughter of Phillipe de Changy, the infamous Raoul's older brother, she was in her late twenties, bright blond hair and a busty figure. She was also Paris' biggest pain in the ass, even the King's young niece wasn't as bratty as the de Changy girl.

It wasn't like her cousins were all that better either, she couldn't help the snort of disgust as she thought of them. The perfectly blond sister Audrianna and her broad older brother Adrien. The de Changy's still Patroned the Opera House, helping it immensely after the fire, but it just gave the bratty kids an excuse to run around and do as they pleased, even more so now that their cousin was Prima Donna.

She was pulled out of her hate-fulled reverie by the snapping of something and Theo's humm of excitment. The mirror was sliding open to reveal a hidden tunnel, he was walking into it, holding his hand out for her. She walked over, her mouth hanging open in shock as she looked on the other side of the open mirror and found that she could see right through it into the room.

"Its a two way mirror," There was such shock in her voice and a smile smile on her face. "are all the mirrors here like that?"

He watched the way her face dropped at little at the thought, as though it just occurred to her that it wasn't really that cool, that it was actually more than a little bit eerie to think that someone was watching her undress.

"Not all of them."

She hit him lightly for the smirk on his face and let him shut the mirror behind them before Vivianne walked in and found it open. They walked down the disturbingly quiet stone tunnel, the scurrying of rats and the cob webs didn't bother her in the slightest. She kinda liked that they could walk side by side in silence and not have it be awkward, if she wanted to talk she would and he was listen to her little stories and enjoy them. They walked on and on until she heard the most heartbreaking sound, a splash.

"Damn it."

He watched as she back up from where he was standing and pulled her leg up to her face. It still amazed him that she could do things like that, that she was literally that flexible. His sister and Molly Giry were that flexible, but that just grossed him out. Marjorie doing it made him hot and bothered, his sister and the girl he considered his sister, not so much.

"What happend?"

She looked over to him and kicked her leg out to him, gesturing to her pointe shoe. "I almost got them wet, this ones a little damp though."

"So?"

She put her leg back on the ground and gave him a funny look. "You know, for a smart guy who has a ballerina for a sister and hangs around them all day, you really don't know that much." He shook his head ruefully, "Alas, I don't."

She chuckled, "Well, I can't get my pointe shoes wet or they'll be ruined and I don't have money to buy new ones, therefore Madame Giry will have my ass."

He quirked an eyebrow at her but thought about what she had said. She obviously didn't have time to change before they left for this little escapade and they couldn't go back through the mirror now, so the only way to go was forward. But if what she said about her ballet shoes were true then she couldn't continue because the farther they got the more watery it became because of the lake.

He let out a sigh, "Alright then, climb on." She looked at him like he really was a monster for a moment, like he had made some lude suggestion. "What?"

"I'll carry you until we get to the boat."

He watched her brow furrow and her mouth hang open wider, "There's a boat?"

"Well where do you think all this water comes from? We have to have a boat to get across the lake to where our home is."

Saying it out loud for the first time, he started to realize just how strange they actually sounded. Using secret passages and going across lakes in boats isn't generally how one gets to their house. No wonder people thought them strange, if they had really any idea about all this they would surely laugh.

"Yeah, it does sound a little sketchy..." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll carry you though, so you don't ruin your shoes."

She seemed to think about it for a moment, accepting his answers about his strange living conditions and nodded her head. "Yeah, yeah, alright, if you really don't mind."

"Trust me, I don't."

She rolled her eyes at him but the smile on her face effectively killing it. She walked over to where he was and stood on the pointes of her shoes, jumping up onto his waist and his arms came around to support her bottom as her arms went around his neck to steady herself. She looked down at him, the way he held her weight as if she were nothing, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and his dark green eyes boring into hers.

She lifted her hand from his neck and brushed the curls out of his eyes, she let her hand move down to his cheek, resting there. She moved her thumb over his cheekbone gently, she slowly moved her lips to his, hovering gently before pressing them to his. He responded back with the pressure of his own, it was still gentle, soft, new. She pulled back and looked at him, finding no qualms in his eyes she moved her mouth forward again against his, he responded quickly this time, kissing her back with ferocity that he didn't even know he possessed.

She tightened her legs around his waist and he walked foward until her back hit the stone wall, mouths still firmly attached. His lips brushed hers again and she sighed against them, the noise catching in her throat as his long fingers moved up from where they gripped her waist and up the spine of her back. His hands inched higher up, his fingers splayed against the thin leotard over her skin, barely tickling, exploring with the same eager, intoxicating pace as his tongue in her mouth. Before she really knew what was happening his mouth had left hers and travelled to her jaw and then to the side of her neck.

She squirmed gently against him at the sensations it brought, living in an Opera House most of her live didn't really leave much time for a social one, she had never really done alot with a boy before so all the feelings were quite new. Of course she had kissed a boy or two, a boy named John when she lived in England and then Jaque and Antwan here, but she had never been kissed like this. She vaguely wondered if he had ever done this before, seeing as he was taking the lead, but she pushed it out of her head for now and let him devour her.

She pulled his head back up to hers and kissed him slowly, teasingly. He pulled back slightly to look at her in the eyes, "Do you want to see where I live or what?"

She smiled at his playful tone, "Why yes, I do."

He pulled her body from the wall, putting his arms under her bottom to support her and started walking down the wet tunnel to where the bank of the lake was located. She played with the curls and waves that the top of head was filled with, grasping the back of his hair with her fingers, running them threw it. She bent her head down to his neck, starting to suckle on the pallid flesh there and revelling in the sounded he made, the hitch in his breathing, and the fact that he had to stop twice to regain his composure.

He almost pushed her into another wall with all the kisses to his neck and the mewing in his ear, he saw the light from the lake up ahead and was never more greatful than that moment. He wanted nothing more than to thrown her down on the ground and have his way with her but he knew he wouldn't. He set her down gently in the boat and jumped in behind her to paddle.

"I never knew there was a lake down here."

"No one really knows why its here either."

"Yeah but, I never even would've guessed." He liked the sound of a laugh in her voice, he thought it sounded even more beautiful.

"So, you live in a cave?"

"Well, essentially yes, but only until the Opera seasons over, then we go home." He chuckled, "We do actually have a real house but its on the outskirts of Paris, so its just easier to stay here until everything done with."

"Whats your real house like then?"

He thought about it, no one had ever really asked him personal questions before, except that is Marjorie who seemed to find intrusive questions all the more fun than regular ones.

"Its, big. Manor like. My Father and my Uncle Nadir built it years ago, he just never had an excuse to live in it until he married my Mom. And my fathers all for nice things, seeing as he never had any growing up."

"So, its true then, the rumors about your father."

They had reached the other side and he jumped off the boat and helped her out of it and into what was there pseudo-music room. All around them were candles, illuminating the whole place, brightly colored rugs adorned the cavern walls giving them a homely feeling rather than that of a cave. The "room" they were in seemed to be the music room, a piano and organ sat parallel to her, sheet music and artistic supplies were strewn everywhere. She could see just beyond Theo a door of sorts that was covered by two red drapes.

"Depends on which rumors your speaking of, the ones about the Phantom taking my Mother and her lover hostage then killing them both are obviously lies."

"Your father is actually the Phantom then, he really married Christine Daae."

Her voice was filled with such wonder and the smiled in her eyes was irresistible to him. "You sound slightly surprised and slightly happy."

"My Mother used to tell me the story of the Phantom of the Opera and how he longed for the beautiful chorus girl Christine Daae who was stolen away by the ever handsome but foppish Raoul de Changy. She told it to me as a love story, with a horrible ending because no one ever really knew what had actually happened after the chandelier dropped, that is of course, except all parties involved. We used to make up our own endings about what happened, filled with happy ones and disregarding what everyone thought about her falling for the Vicomte. Which is ironically funny seeing as our endings had actually come true, seeing as your parents are married and I'm assuming happy."

She really never stoped suprising him this one.

"Well, I can assure you that my parents are in fact married, happy and sickeningly still in love."

This seemed to please her greatly, the thought that just the fact that his parents were happy together pleased her without even knowing them struck a cord in him, one that made him warm with delight. He had never met a girl that was this easy to please, stories about his parents happiness and lurking in hidden corridors, and she was set. This might be simpler than he originally thought.

He gave her the grand tour, from the music room they walked through the doorway with the red drapes and found a kitchen - thing. It was a medium sized room with a table in the center, to the left were cabinets built into the stone walls, a sink with a counter attached to it, and even an icebox. There were two doorways with different colored drapes for them, one was straight ahead and the other was to the right. To the right was a living room area, complete with armchairs, a sofa, shelves of books and Demitri's sketch books thrown about, a large golden and burgundy rug covered the floor. Through the other was a hallway that lead to the occupants rooms, the first left was a hallway that extended into his sister Misha's room, the next was a right that had a small hallway leading toward Demitri's, then of course the next left was his and the room at the end of the hall was his parents.

His room was so very like him, tidy, neat, with a constructive chaos that added to its appeal. The walls were lined with shelves of books of all different kinds, the rug on the floor was a deep green that reminded her of his eyes, the bed stood in a corner, a canopy with green drapes that looked like silk ever from where she stood, the violin case propped up at the foot of the bed, sheet music was splattered around the floor like paint but she found it didn't look at all messy, it just looked liked it belonged there.

He lead her back out into the pseudo music room and they sat at the piano and played silly children's hand games until she asked him to play for her.

"I can't believe you don't know how to play _Pretty Little Dutch Girl_. That was like my favorite game when I was little."

He looked at her, his fingers still moving over the ivory keys with complete ease that still amazed her. "Yeah, well, you didn't know _Long Legged Sailor_ and I mean come on, everyone knows that one."

She pushed his shoulder teasingly and laughed along with him. They settled into a comfortable silence, the only sound was their breathing and the song he started playing.

"Can I ask you a question?" She seemed almost hesitant about it and he saw as she bit her lip lightly and looked up at him slowly. "Of course."

"Well its kind of a personal question."

He chuckled lightly, "Those are your favorite kind, are they not?"

She smiled a little, seeming at ease with his agreement to answer her. "Don't you hate people blatantly staring at your mask and not your eyes?"

Her voice sounded strained, as though she felt the pain for him. He sighed a little, it always came back to the mask, always. He thought she had looked past it, but that was a silly thought, no one could look past his mask. He looked into her eyes and found that thought faltering slightly at what he saw there.

"I-I'm only asking because, I see the way people look at you, hear what the girls whisper and none of it makes much sense to me." She looked down, her brows furrowed, shaking her head. "I don't know why you wear a mask - and its not my place to ask - but, but people just stare! Like your a side show and they say your not handsome because of a piece of porcelain that covers portion of your face."

She looked up at him threw her lashes, a move that usually drove him crazy with desire.

"How do you do it, how do you stay so calm and sweet and gentle? I would've gone crazy and started shooting death rays out of my eyeballs by now if I were you."

Somehow, he was taking this all as a major compliment, the greatest one he'd seem to have received as of late. She knew it wasn't her place to ask about the mask, even though she was curious she trusted him, and she wanted to know how he wasn't killing most of Paris by this point. He couldn't really think of anything to respond to something like that, no one had ever asked him how he felt about it, they always just assumed they knew: angry. And true, he was angry at the world, angry at every person that glanced his way with horror or shock in their eyes, but he was almost past that point now, the caring part...Alright that was a lie, he did care, he really, really did. He wished people didn't stare, didn't ask questions that he wasn't going to answer. He wished people just liked him, not to get to his brother or in some cases sister. He wished more people were like Marjorie.

He did the only thing he could think of doing, he brought his hand gently up to her face, tracing the smooth skin of her cheekbone, pushing the escaped pieces of dark golden hair out of her face. He cupped his hand under her jaw and brought her face up to meet his, he kissed her with as much gentle passion he possessed, telling her everything she'd wanted to know hopefully in this one kiss. He was vaguely aware that she was crawling across the piano bench and onto his lap, where he continued his assault of her mouth, gently probing with his.

For years of his young life he wished he could find the Christine to his Phantom, it was now, in his moment, he was sure he'd found her.


	3. Reflection

Hello everyone! Thank you to all my lovely reviewers who actually like this super original story. Today we have some Christine mama action, some Nadir reflection, as well as an Erik/Theo moment! So now were meeting some more characters, getting in the groove of the plot, or plots I should say. Now up next we have some Misha and Molly Giry, the de Changy's, Christine/Erik lovin', and of course our stars, Theo and Marjorie. Oh, and I do have a picture on my profile of what Marjorie looks like, but I want to know what you all think she looks like. What you think everyone looks like. Send me a link in your review and if I like it better than mine I'll change it and give credit! It'll go for any character. I adore you all! Ideas, comments, anything!

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Christine watched as one of her sons shuffled into the kitchen, sitting at the table. It was early, he was the only one awake besides herself, but it wasn't uncommon. She placed a cup of coffee down in front of him, his waves were fluffy and askew from sleep, matted down in some places and sticking up in others. She patted his hair down, running her fingers through his hair like she used to do when he was a child. Sleep was still evident in his eyes as he sipped his coffee and Christine's ministrations weren't helping. She hadn't seen him at all the day before, he usually spent most of his time above, practicing in the orchestra pit and now, as she found out from Demitri and Misha, he was spending time with a girl as well.

This of course shocked her at first, not because of the obvious, but because that was her baby boy and he had never showed an interest for any particular girl. She wanted to meet this ballerina that had her son smiling so. She had noticed when they had come home from shopping that the piano was open, it hadn't meant anything to her then, it happened all the time with five musically inclined people in the house. But now she wondered, that mother instinct popping up, had Theo brought the girl down here?

"Theo," He mumbled something incoherent, letting her know he had heard. "Demitri was telling me of your new friend, and I was wondering why you hadn't told me about her."

She felt him stiffen, then sigh. "Demitri needs to learn to keep things to himself." He turned to look at her over his shoulder, looking so much like his father in that moment. "Because that'sall she is, a friend. Misha doesn't tell you about every girl in the chorus she's friends with, Demitri doesn't tell you about the friends he's madewith the stage hands, why do I have to tell you every friend I make?" He paused. "Or is it so hard to believe that I could make friends, that you have to make sure she isn't trying to use me for something."

She sat in the chair next to him, sipping at her tea. He really had no idea just how much like his father he really was, not just in looks or the right side of his face, but the way his anger lashed out unexpectedly from his calm demeanor. "That's not what I think at all and you know that. I was simply inquiring on what Demirti had said, but seeing your reaction...Theo, do you like this girl?"

She had said it with such an air of light conversation, asking as if wanted milk in his tea. How do they know, how do Mother's always know everything! He sighed, putting his cup down on the table, sitting up in his chair. "Yes."

She smiled at him, ruffling his hair again. "So, tell me about her. How long have you known her, whats her name, whats she like?"

He could hear the gossiping tone in her voice, the tone her and Misha got when they talked about their girly bullshit. "Her name is Marjorie, shes in the ballet, and I've known her for a while." She nodded her head for him to continue, leaning in closer. "What, what else do you want to know."

"What is she like?"

He sighed, running a hand over his face, "She's nice, she's smart and funny, sarcastic and loud, she's pretty..."

"So, am I going to meet her?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

He drained his coffee, getting up to put it in the sink. "It depends on how things go."

Christine sighed, so like his father. She watched him saunter into the Music room and sit at the piano, running his fingers over the keys idly and produce the most beautiful sounds. What was she going to do with them.

--

He watched her move gracefully across the stage with the other corps, her long legs leaping and twirling and stretchingin a perfect line. He remembered how those legs felt wrapped around his waist, he groaned and looked away, down at the piano. It was almost break time, he hadn't spoken to her since dinner the night before and he was nervous to hear what she had to say. They had kissed, alot, they had a good time, he had showed her places that he had taken no one else. But he hadn't asked her to be his, they hadn't really talked about that, they just kissed like they had been dating for years, like it was the most natural thing.

Did she regret it, kissing a masked monster. He knew he wasn't actually a monster, or Satan's spawn, he had a good family that raised him right and taught him it was okay to be different. Yet, he couldn't help but feel bad about himself, about what he looked like. He didn't want pity, he wanted love. But because he was raised right, he knew that going around kissing girls that weren't yours was in fact, wrong. He just wasn't sure what he should do, his Mother dragged it out of him and she said she was happy he found someone, but Marjorie wasn't really his.

They had become fast friends, he knew his feelings for her had grown over that time rather rapidly, they had spent the day in each others company, searching hidden places all alone. It had just happened, he had picked her up to carry her so her ballet slippers didn't get wet, then once he had her against his body he couldn't take the way it made him feel, so alive. She had been the one to put her hands on his face and initiate the kiss, but he was the one who backed her into the wall and deepened it. Then on the piano, he had played something for her, per her request, and the next thing he knew she was on his lap and they were kissing heavily on his father's piano. He groaned, if his father had ever found out...

But what could she possibly want from him? Why did she find him appealing, why did she willingly kiss him and run around alone with him. They were young, but it was still highly inappropriate the way they had acted yesterday. Why did all of this have to be so...confusing.

She jumped down from the stage to find him lost in thought, his long fingers subconsciously playing a song he knew by heart. She sat down next to him on the bench, wondering what he was thinking so hardly about. Was it her? Was he thinking about her and his regret for being with her? She knew she wasn't beautiful or smart or incredibly talented. She knew she was only mildly interesting to a genius like him, but she couldn't help the way she felt around him. The way he moved, spoke, even the way he looked at her. Her body screamed with desire as she felt his eyes upon her, which was more often then she thought. She felt his stare from across the room, she felt it even when she knew he wasn't there, when she was alone. When she had approached him those many days ago, yes she did it with the intention of being friends, but also with the secret desire to be more.

She had seen him since she first came here, the way he moved with ease and grace, yet a predatory grace, the way his eyes fell upon the ballet corps as he watched. His brother was the same way, more rugged and boisterous, watching the girls with an unidentified hunger in his eyes. The other girls seemed to think that Demitri was the more handsome between the two, she couldn't understand their logic on that. Demitri and Theo were twins, they looked practically identical until you got close to them and noticed the minor differences. So if they thought Demitri was the better looking brother, it was only because of Theo's mask that made him less attractive, and the way he wasn't as outspoken as his brother. She found it appalling. She had always found Theo to be the more...alluring of the two.

She placed her hand over his, his expert playing fumbled by her touch, as it seemed to bring him out of his mind. He glanced over to her, the smile on her face, the yearning in her wide eyes. "Hi."

A smile smile made its way onto his face. "Hello." She opened her mouth to speak, her eyes never leaving his, "I - "

"Marjorie! Come on, you said you would help me!"

They both turned to the stage to see Jean-Marie, the King's niece standing before them with her hands on her hips. She was a pretty girl with dark, straight hair and dark, hooded eyes, she was also the Prima Ballerina of the Paris Opera for the moment. Marjorie turned back to Theo a sheepish smile placed on her lips, "I promised I'd help her with her costume for the Masquerade Ball." she looked down at her hand still on top of his. "We'll talk later?"

He caught her gaze again and nodded, watching as she stood to leave. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips before turning and jumping up onto the stage, Jean-Marie grabbing her arm and hauling her backstage, surely to her dressing room, whispering all the way. He had forgotten about the ball, it was in honor of the Opera's last few performances before the end of the season. It wasn't for quite sometime, but close enough that they needed to get their costumes in order. He sighed, getting up and walking down one of the corridors that lead to a secret passage way, all he wanted to do was lie down and rest his aching mind.

--

"Nadir, you really should eat something. Are you sure I can't make you something?" The tanned skinned man lowered his head with a smile and patted his stomach gently. "Please Christine, I am still full from lunch earlier. I assure you I am fine." He chuckled. "I am no longer the age of your ever growing boys, this old body can no longer tolerate that much delicious food. I think it is your fault that my waistline seems to be growing."

Christine placed a hand on her hip and lifted an eyebrow with a smirk, "My delicious food is not the reason for your growing gut Nadir. Your just looking for an excuse and you won't find one from me."

"You sound like Erik."

Christine smiled and sat down across from her old friend. "Well, that was bound to happen seeing as I've been with him since I was sixteen."

"Goodness, has it really been that long?"

Nadir looked at the beautiful woman across from him, she had seemed to never age from the radiant chorus girl she had once been. Her hair still fell around her in wild brown curls, her eyes still wide and a shade of amber that he had never been able to replicate in all his trips around the world. She was still tall and graceful with her own unique build and frame. It was no wonder Erik had been obsessed with her, but not only for her beauty, for she was much more than just a common pretty gem. She had spark, a flare, and a fire to her, it made her who she was, and what made Erik so inexplicably drawn to her.

Her daughter seemed to have acquired that same flare and fire that her Mother had. Misha was very much like Christine, someone would have to be blind not to see the similarities placed there for the world to see. But it was the roll of her ocean colored eyes, the smirk on her lips, the sarcasm in her voice, and her vindictive manipulating tendencies that were pure Erik.

It wasn't just Misha, it was all three of their children. They were just so much like both of their parents and it astounded Nadir that none of them could seem to see it. Maybe it was because he wasn't always around, that he had a keen eye for detail, or that he had learned over time to observe in a third party sort of way, but he saw it.

"So, where is my dear old friend anyhow?"

Christine mock pouted, "What, tired of my company already?" He smiled wide at her. "Never my dear, just simply curious."

"Oh, well in that case, he's with Misha in the Music room."

"Ah, I thought I had heard a piano. But, living under an Opera House, I just figured the music travels down." Nadir sipped at his tea as Christine chuckled at the truth of his statement. "So, how are Erik and yourself? I ask so much about my beautiful niece and nephews that I never properly ask about you."

"Were good, Erik and I. I know he doesn't actually enjoy being back here, under the Opera House. He never thought he would return after we left and who could blame him, he spent so many years of his life alone under here, brooding. But, he does it for his children and their love for music."

"He's always been rather selfless, even whilst drowning in self loathing."

"Self loathing, you must be talking about my Father."

Both adults turned to see Demitri leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his lips as well as in his eyes. Nadir was astounded how much the boy looked like his old friend, as of course did his twin brother. Demitri reminded him of what Erik could've been, given the proper chance at a normal life. He was just as ruggedly handsome as the unmasked side of Erik's face, the same wide green eyes as Theo and the same mischievous nature as his Fathers. His build was roughly the same as well, the broad shoulders and lean torso, eloquent fingers and defined cheekbones. His nature was flirtatious and mysterious, playful but slightly sinister. He is what Nadir imagined Erik to be like at that age if he were, well for lack of a proper word, normal.

"Demirti, don't sneak up like that!" Christine placed hand over her heart from the slight shock her son caused. "So like your father you are, I can barley hear any of you coming. Now, where's your brother?" Demitri rolled his eyes, pushing off the wall and sitting in the chair in between the two of them.

"Who knows, probably roaming around with his newest obsession."

"Obsession?" Demirtri turned to look at Nadir who raised a questioning eyebrow over his tea cup. "Yeah, obsession. Theo tends to become overly...excited about certain things. For instance, two months ago it was a book on mythology, I couldn't have a chat about anything without him dropping text and unrelated nonsense into normal conversation. I had to read the damn book just so I could challenge him during one of his tirades to make him shut up."

Nadir glanced to Christine to see if this was in fact true, her downcast eyes and small smile said wonders.

"So, whats his newest obsession then?"

Demitri couldn't help the teasing smirk that fell onto his lips. "Marjorie Dubious, one of Grandma Giry's rats. She just came up to him one day and started talking, now he's been stalking her ever since."

"He's not stalking her you idiot."

Misha sidled into the room leaning against the top of her Mother's chair, rolling her eyes at her older brothers incompetence.

"Oh really then, Miss I know everything, enlighten us, what is he doing then?"

Misha whacked her brother on the side of the head lightly. "He's waiting for her to get done with rehearsal and then they hang out. If anyones a stalker its you, sitting in the third row and watching all the ballerina's prance around."

He smirked, pinching her thigh. "That's because you all look so cute in your tights." She smacked his hand away and sent him a glare that could rival Erik's Nadir was sure.

"So, what your both saying is, Theo has a girlfriend?"

"Well, shes not so much his girlfriend, just a girl that hes quite fond of." Demitri nodded in response to his sister's comment. "Yeah, he's even switched from violin to piano."

"And?"

"And, he's already 'mastered' the piano and so he moved onto something else. But, Marjorie told him he played wonderfully and now he plays it all the time."

"Ah," Nadir smiled, how like Erik this all was. "I wonder what she is like then, to have caught the interest of one like Theo, she must be quite intriguing."

"She's lovely actually. I have to dance with her in a few numbers and shes very pleasant to be around."

Demitri jumped up, "Hold on a sec." and ran out of the kitchen and into the other room, returning a few moments later with a sketch book. Holding it out to Nadir he took the opened book and glanced over the rough sketch of a ballerina in a pose and a more defined one of a girl that he supposed was Marjorie.

"Hmm, well, she does seem to be pretty. Not elaborately so, or as distinctive as say you Misha or Christine. But, I do see why he is drawn to her."

"Whose drawn to whom?"

They all turned to find Theo entering the kitchen, sheet music in hand. They all glanced at one another quickly, and for a group of people all blessed with quick wit and elaborate lies, the pause was to great for Theo not to know they had been talking about him. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and walked past them into the Music room down the hall.

Demitri glanced at everyone else, "Well, that went well." and he received a whack on the head from all at the table. "Ow!"

--

Jean-Marie shut the door behind them, whirling around to face Marjorie. "So," Marjorie played with the little bottles of perfume on her vanity, "So..."

"So, you and Theo Destler?"

Marjorie couldn't help the flush that ran over her cheekbones, "What about him."

Jean rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips. "Oh, well I don't know, you only kissed him."

"That I did. Its good to know your eyes work."

"Are you two, like, together?"

"Not, exactly."

Jean came to stand by Marjorie, sitting down in the chair, she turned to face her. "But you like him." Marjorie sighed andsat down on the ground next to where Jean sat, her eyes staring at the ceiling but not really looking. "Yeah, I do."

"And, what are you going to do about it?" She looked up at Jean-Marie, she was surprised, the girl usually didn't care for details like that, well unless they involved herself. "I haven't quite figured that out yet."

Jean-Marie nodded her head, turning around and starting to do her makeup. "Well, whatever it is you decided to do just remember that a mask isn't socially acceptable." Marjorie wanted to lash out at her, wanted to tell her just how ridiculous she was being. But she knew she wouldn't, Jean-Marie was her best friend, she was also royalty and taught the things she thinks. She knew she wouldn't be able to change her friends views, and she also knew that they were correct, thats what bothered her the most.

People weren't going to accept Theo, it didn't matter if he was amazing or talented, people would stare with appall.

"You know, my brother wrote me yesterday."

Still lost in thought Marjorie was only half listening to what Jean-Marie was saying, not catching the subtle hints in her voice or the way she looked at Marjorie from the mirror where she sat brushing her hair.

"Oh yeah."

"Yeah, he said he's going to come visit me soon, going to check out the Opera House. I've told him all about you and hes really excited to meet you..."

Marjorie was still stuck on Theo, only catching snippets of what her friend was saying to her. Something about her brother and being excited. "Uh, what where you saying sorry, I spaced out for a second there." It didn't matter that Marjorie hadn't been paying attention because Jean-Marie kept on talking as though she had.

"And you know how much I adore you, your my best friend, well my only friend, and you know I think of you as a sister - "

She gasped, setting down her brush and turned to face Marjorie properly, her eyes wide and excited. "Do you realize if you married my brother we would be sisters! Like real sisters!" Her squeals only added to Marjorie's confusion.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there Jem, what are you talking about exactly."

She only huffed for a moment and rolled her eyes over dramatically. "I was saying how when my brother comes he's obviously going to fall for you and how wonderful it would be if you ended up marrying him and we could become real sisters."

Marjorie just stared at Jean-Marie, who she so fondly called 'Jem'. Did she dance to hard today, was she over heated and needed to lie down? She had never even meet Jem's brother and now all of a sudden they were getting married and she was becoming part of a royal family? It was laughable and she wondered what had caused Jem to think of this all of a sudden.

"Uh, yeah...oh-okay."

She wasn't exactly sure what to say or how to respond to that. Jean-Marie was her best friend and the way she was looking at her right now, her dark eyes wide, a bright smile on her lips, she couldn't just flat out say that she thought Jem was crazy.

"Great. I am just so excited for this ball! So, do you think I should go with pink gown or a gold gown..."

Marjorie st down on the small couch and sighed, this was going to be a long break.

--

Theo walked into the Music room, not noticing his father's presence at the piano. "Oh, sorry Father."

Erik looked up when his son entered the room, it was unlike Theo not to notice anothers presence right away. He lifted a brow in Theo's direction before nodding his head to come forth and sit beside him.

"Whats the problem."

Theo sighed, sitting beisde his Father on a piano bench was not something on his top favorites list. He rubbed his face with both hands, shoulders sagging. It was different, having this conversation with his Mother was one thing, but his Father wasn't really the go-to-guy for romantic advice. Because really, he was only ever really in love with their Mother and she was the only girl he'd ever been with. What kind of advice could he give to a teenager, like seriously. But, Theo supposed, this was different, he was always told how much like his Father he actually was, maybe his Father would understand, maybe...

"I...I really like this girl."

Erik internally groaned. This was so not his forte, this was what Christine was for, to answer and aid their children when they became this age and inevitably started to have the hormonal outbursts that most teenagers were prone to. Yes, he had been a teenager, but it was different. When he was the boys age he had already left the Opera House and was stranded in Persia, that's how he meet Nadir. The mysterious Daroga who had given him shelter and quickly became his closest friend. Nadir had helped him return to Paris when the Gypsies had come looking for him, brought him back to the Opera Populaire and always sent him things from his travels around the world. He had been alone, he never had to deal with matters of the heart until he met Christine. So, what could he possibly say to his son that would remotely help.

But, as he glanced at Theo, eyes narrowed on the music sheets but not really seeing anything, shoulders slumped, jaw tightened, he knew that Theo was stuck in the beginning stages of what he went through with Christine. Out of all his children Theo was the most distant from him, but out of all of them, Theo was the most like him. The obvious being the scarring on the right side of his face, it often made Erik wonder if that was the reason he was so distant from him. Did Theo blame him for cursing his young flesh with a Father's deformity? He knew that's why he distanced himself from Theo, that was the exact reason. He felt responsible for making his son's life seemingly much more hard.

But Theo wasn't just cursed with his face, he was also cursed with his very essence. Their mannerisms were the same, the introspective nature and calm demeanor filled with repressed rage. The more he thought about it, it seemed like Christine had Misha, he had Theo, and Demitri, well he was just thrown into the mix.

"And?"

He tried not to sound bored, tried not to sound condescending or disinterested. He hoped it was working.

"And, I kissed her." He sighed. "A few times actually. I just, I'm not sure what to do about it. Any of it."

He thought about it for a moment, Theo kissing a girl, Demitri he could picture sure, Misha - was never dating in her life, Molly, who he had come to think of as a second daughter, if she was anything like her Mother Meg than she had already kissed a few stage hands...But, Theo? His son had always been invested into his music, he never thought that he had those lonely feelings of love and lust, he had never shown any signs anyway.

"Who is she?"

He was actually insanely curious, it had to be one of the dancers, maybe one of the chorus girls, and God help him, hopefully not that brat Vivianne de Changy or her cousin Audrianna.

"Marjorie Dubious. She's a - "

"Dancer, I know."

Theo looked over to his Father in surprise, he was the first person to ever stop him and actually knew who the girl was. He didn't ask any questions after that, just sat and pondered what Theo had said.

"How, do you know?"

Erik turned to look at his son directly in the eyes. "This is my Opera House, I know everyone and everything in it. Don't ever doubt that I don't." His eyes were narrowed, so cold and demanding, so like Misha's. All he could do was nod, knowing his Father wouldn't want anything else.

"So, what should I do."

Erik sighed. "Well, it seems pretty obvious what you should do. Ask to court her and bring her for dinner to make your Mother happy."

Theo lowered his gaze again, contemplation and worry written all over his pale green eyes. It was a while before either one of them spoke, both lost in thought in the quite Music room.

"She doesn't mind it, never asked about it, never stares." It caught Erik by surprise at the emotion in his son's voice. He hadn't realized that while he was busy brooding away about how he had infected his son, that his son was actually going through the same insecurities and judgement he had went through. "She says, she doesn't understand how people can be so cruel and not look at me for me." He paused shaking his head. "She looks me in the eyes."

Erik reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, grasping it slightly Erik let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"That's good, that's always good. It'll be rare to find I'm sorry to say, but once you find it, you'll forget. And as early in your life as it seems, you've found it."

He patted Theo's shoulder one last time before standing up and leaving the Music room and Theo, alone with his thoughts and a piano to figure them out on.

--


	4. Tales from Eastern Persia

hey all! sorry it's taken so long for this next update, but here it is! Thank you all soooo much for the reviews and the alerts, I know that this is a weird story about their children and not alot of people like that, so thanks for sticking with me on this! Its corny but they really helped be get back on track, so keep it up! Oh, and if any of you have ideas about how any of these characters look let me know! I would love to see how you all perceive these characters. Any ideas, questions, something you want to see happen, let me know!

* * *

He had been leaning against the orchestra pit sketching when she showed up, almost out of thin air instead of the broom he thought she rode. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back into some elaborate up-do, sprinkled with shiny pins that made her hair gleam when the light hit it. Most would consider her quite the beauty, like her older cousin Vivianne, yet he didn't seem to find her all that appealing. Her skin was slightly bronzed from her family's excessive trips to the islands, her hair only a tad lighter than her skin, making her look blended together. Her smile was too wide, her nose too up turned.

From an artist point of view, she had a wonderful body for sketching, not too thin or tall, not too round or curvy. But her found himself itching to paint another, a girl with vivacious strawberry hair and little to no figure, except for her long legs and the subtle curve of her hips and chest.

"Demitri!" The feigning surprise in her voice made him cringe a little. "Fancy running into you here, I haven't seen you since I've gotten back from the islands. How have you been?"

Demitri sighed quietly, looking up he saw her standing in front of him, her back straight, her white teeth gleaming from her wide smile. The dress she wore was a peachy-orange that had him wanting to vomit, that color flattered no one, especially her. It was low cut and bared her shoulders and arms, apparently the new fashion in Paris. Although, he didn't see anything particularly arousing about a woman's shoulders, but hey, that could be just him.

"Audrianna, hey." He beamed a fake smile towards her and saw how her face instantly brightend. It was no secret, although she thought it was, about how infatuated Audrianna was with Demitri. "I've been...busy. How was your trip to the islands?"

He figured it was better to just placate her for now, no sense in being a dick to her when he didn't have to, that was more of his Father's style.

She gushed about how wonderful it was, how their Negro's did everything for them, how she lounged by the sea, and how he should come visit with them some time. He nodded and smiled at her, hoping she would soon leave him be, he had about enough of her for one day and she was bringing on a migraine.

She sidled closer to him, her eyes lowered in an attempt to be sexual he was sure, her fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "You know Demitri, my Father will be out later tonight...if your bored with these, people," He noticed how she hesitated with the word, trying not to offend him. "I wouldn't mind some...company." She had basically purred the last word out at him, her fingers trailing up his chest and coming to rest on his collarbone.

"I'll, uh, keep that in mind Audrianna."

She bit her lip, looking up at him and smiling. "Hey, Dem, could you come here and help us with this lift? It doesn't seem to be working right with a girl, we need a boy to do it." He turned instantly at the sound of her voice, relief flooding his features.

"Of course darling, I'll be there in a moment." He turned back to Audrianna and removed her hand from his chest, still smiling at her. "Well, it's been a pleasure chatting with you Audri, but alas, I must go and assist my sister."

He could see the scowl that was stuck on her face, but her eyes instantly brightened at the sound of her nickname, it wasn't anything special, he did it to everyone. "I'll see you later then Demitri, and remember my offer." She smiled sweetly at him once more before turning to leave him.

Demitri sighed and jumped on stage, walking over to his sister who was smiling coyly at him, he arms crossed over her chest. "I owe you one."

She smirked, "I could see you were in need of a little...distraction. But we do actually need help with this lift."

Demitri chuckled and walked over to the rest of the girls with her, "Okay, for this dance Madame Giry wanted Natalie to lift Molly, but its not working out too well." She looked at her brother as he slowly checked out the strawberry blond beside her. "Wanna give it a go?"

She watched him blink and shake his head, "Uh, sure."

They ran the dance for him once, showing him what they were suppose to be doing, and what they couldn't. He watched Molly lift her legs high in the air, her lithe body jumping and spinning with the others. His sister came across his vision, leaping through the air with ease, her chaotic mess of curls falling freely out of the ribbon that secured them. And finally he saw Marjorie, the girl that had gotten his brother sulking so. She spun and kicked with the rest of them, a simple grace within her that she didn't poses when not dancing. Her honey colored hair falling out of her side braid, her wide eyes open and her cheeks flushed. He knew what his brother saw in her, he knew why he was enamoured by her, it was simple, like her.

He sighed and ran through the dance with them, lifting Molly up with ease, although it mentally wasn't as easy. The feel of her hipbones against his thumbs was sending shivers down his spine, covered by a thin leotard was the flesh that he yearned for in his dreams every night, and here it was right under his fingertips. He had almost dropped her in that instant, but recoiled in enough time to make it seem like a dip, he added a smirk just for the effect.

She rolled her blue eyes at him and swung her legs around his waist so she wouldn't fall when he stood upright. "You almost dropped me you know."

He looked at her with mock appal, "My dear, I would never! I had you in my grasp the whole time."

She looked from his eyes to his lips and back again, "I'm not quite so sure that's a good pace to be at the moment."

He let go of her, setting her gently on the ground. They stared at each other for a moment before it was interrupted by Misha, and her exceptionally awful timing. "So, I'm going to ask Madame Giry if you can just dance the scene with us and do the lift, because honestly it looked much better, and lets be honest, safer, when you did it." She looked between the two of them, who were no longer looking at the other but on the stage instead. "Okay?'

"Yeah, thats fine. I'm - I gotta go find Theo."

She watched as he jumped off the stage and casually walked in the direction of one of the passages, her brows furrowed in thought. Turning back to Molly she raised a brow in questioning, "Whats his deal?"

Molly just shrugged her thin shoulders and turned back to the other girls, a blush still present on her cheekbones.

* * *

Theo was sitting in the piano room, or sulking as his brother fondly liked to call it, but he was not sulking, definitely not sulking. Or, so he was trying to convince himself. He was simply staring at a half finished composition while it sat on the open piano, thinking over what his Father had said last night and trying to figure out just how to approach Marjorie with his new idea. He knew he was suppose to be meeting her for their routinely hangout, but he had been sitting at his piano all night simultaneously working on this new bit and thinking about her. He wasn't about to move now, he was too invested in what he was doing, what he was thinking about.

He was so involved with staring at the paper in front of him that he didn't even notice the door open, or Demitri come strolling in, or that he sat on the couch across from the piano, looking at him readily.

"Thee...Theo... Theo!"

He looked up startled, realizing it was his twin he rolled his eyes and tightened his jaw, "What Demitri."

"Woah, theirs no need to go all Dad on me, I just needed to talk to you."

He let out a frustrated breath, "I'm a little busy here."

Demitri rolled his eyes, "Look you can finish pouring all your angst into the piano later, I'm having something of a crisis and I need your assistance."

For someone who was having 'something of a crisis', Demitri seemed quite calm and controlled, to an untrained eye that is. Despite the obvious fact of being a Destler and the gifts that come along with it, he could read his brother like no one else, they were twins after all and that was his job. While Demitri seemed to be casually sitting on the couch with his face controlled, Theo could see through the cracks of his facade easily. It was the way he held his shoulders, back and straight, the way his jaw was slightly clenched, the curling of his fingers into a fist. His brother was not okay, and while he didn't have the slightest clue as to what caused this, he knew he could help him somehow.

"And what seems to be your crisis that couldn't wait another hour or so?"

"First of all, we all know your brooding isn't about to end anytime soon, especially not with the way you were staring so intently at that poor piece of parchment." He let a smirk fall easily onto his face, but it wasn't a real Demitri smirk, it was one that was forced and didn't meet his eyes. "And second of all, its not really a crisis, per say."

"Then what is it Dem?"

He let out a heavy sigh, the his eyes not meeting Theo's as he tried to figure out how to word his statement properly. "Its more of a...on going, situation that's somehow becoming a permanent state of being..."

"And that means what, exactly?"

Now he was starting to confuse him, it was a crisis that wasn't a crisis but more of an on going permanent state of being. Because that made perfect sense. Theo shook his head, at least his problems were easy to decipher and didn't need a translator to figure out the meaning behind it.

"It means..." He sighed again, "It means that..."

"Demitri Alexander, just spit it out so I can help you or leave because if you didn't notice when you barged in here, I was kind of in the middle of something."

"I think I'm in love with Molly."

Theo paused, his brows furrowed, well, that certainly wasn't something he had been expecting to come out of his brother's mouth, although as the statement hung in the air, not all that surprising. He had always known that Demitri had been a little more fond of Molly than the rest of them, but, Molly was like their sister, it just seemed a little odd to him. Not that she wasn't pretty, because she was quite pretty, it was just that when thinking of Molly Marguerite Giry he thought of a sisterly figure, not an arousing figure and -

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?"

His inner monologue and train of thought had been cut off by Demitri's statement, it broke through the still air like an off key note.

"Well, it wasn't what I had been expecting you to say, but not all that surprising or upsetting."

Demitri rose from his seat, "How can you say that? I think I'm in love with Molly, Molly fucking Marguerite Giry, and all you can say is its not surprising or upsetting? What in the holy hell is the matter with you?"

Theo looked at his brother like his was slightly mentally deranged, "So, you want me to be appalled that you have a more than sisterly adoration for Molly?"

"Well of course I don't _want_ you to be appalled, but you should be! She's like our sister for heavens sakes."

"Well I'm not the one who wants to get under her leotard."

He leaned forward over the piano, his eyes narrowed, a small sneer on his face, "You better not be."

Theo's brows shot up as he started into the same green eyes as his own, "Really Dem, you think I'm holed up in here, pouring my sorrows out on a piano for my health or some new found love of Molly?" He hoped sarcasm would get through to his brother, because logic didn't seem to at the moment. "I think not."

But Demitri didn't entirely lean back, the small sneer still present on his otherwise handsome face.

"If you haven't noticed, you over protective neanderthal, I happen to be pining after a different ballerina who doesn't have a problem with my deformities and makes me feel things that I've only ever felt in my wet dreams."

He hadn't meant to reveal too much of his current predicament with Marjorie, but with his brothers sudden confession and the protective look in his eyes, it all just came tumbling out. He just hoped Demitri didn't mock him about it or use it against him in the future like brothers often did. But, when he stepped back and his face once again became passive, he knew he had made the right choice in not repressing his verbal vomit.

"So...what should I do?"

He watched as Demitri turned away from him, tinkering with random objects on the shelves, it was a sure sign of nervousness, but it seemed odd seeing as usually Demitri was void of any nervous tendencies. It was odd to see him in a state of casual distress, especially over something as interesting as matters of the heart.

"Tell her how you feel."

Demitri turned his head sharply to face him, "Are you mad? I can't just _tell_ her that I'm in love with her."

"And why not?"

"Well as you so clearly stated before, she's like our sister, what if she thinks of me like she thinks of you?"

The panicked look on his face was quite comical, but it made Theo slightly appalled. "And how do you know she thinks of me and how she doesn't?"

Demitri scoffed and looked him up and down, "Lets be serious here Thee, this is Molly we're talking about."

"And whats that suppose to mean?"

"It means that - wait, why do you even care, you're obsessed with Marjorie! You know what, go back to brooding over the piano, don't even think about Molly."

He sighed, "Demitri, stop being ridiculous. You said you needed help, I gave you advice, either run with it or don't."

"So, I'm just suppose to tell her how I feel and...then what?"

Theo shrugged, "I haven't actually gotten that far myself."

Demitri sighed, "Great."

"Well what do you want from me Dem? Its not exactly like I'm a connoisseur of this sort of thing."

Demirtri threw his arms up and flopped himself back down on the couch as he sighed. "I dunno Theo, I just...I guess I just wanted to hear you tell me to do it - tell her - it seems like the right thing to do when it comes from you."

"Why?"

"Because your my brother, the smart one, if you think somethings a good idea it most likely is." Theo nodded and let a small smile fall on his lips, he never knew how much his opinion meant. Demitri stood and started to walk out of the music room, he stopped as he reached Theo and clapped him on the shoulder, "You should just get it over with and tell her how you feel, she obviously likes you alot, just ask her to be yours and get on with it already."

In his brother's own crude sense of logic, it made perfect sense, and for once he was glad Demitri had decided to interrupt him.

* * *

She watched as the beautiful brunette tittered around the room, picking up books and gowns from the floor. She was a tall girl, thin but not skinny like most of the dancers tended to be, with loose dark brown curls that flowed down her back. She had a dancers built, not naturally, but from extensive years in the chorus and ballet would do that to a person.

Her eyes were that mix of the deep green of her older brothers and the ocean-y blues that no one was sure of, her playful smirk so like Demitri's, and her love for reading so like Theo. One could tell instantly they were brothers and sister, they all looked so alike, yet so distinctly different. They were all undeniably beautiful in her opinion, and although most said she was in fact the more beautiful out of the two of them, she had to disagree. Her best friend, Misha Daae-Destler, she thought was much more Classically Beautiful as they were calling it now, with her big eyes and wide smile.

"So, which one do you want to read first? Tales from Eastern Persia or The Glass Box?"

She bit her lip in thought as she considered the books in Misha's hands, both books seemed to be quite interesting...

"Give me the...red one."

Misha handed her the thick scarlet colored book while she went back to picking up the messy room before her Mother came in and saw it in its present state. She went out into the living room to sit by the fire, wondering how long would it take for the brunette to finish cleaning. She became so engrossed in her book she didn't notice when the handsome boy came strutting in, or when he sat down on the sofa, or when Misha left to go with her Mother to the market.

It was after a while she could start to feel his gaze on her as she read, the scratching of his pencil against the parchment rang out in the cavern. Thinking about it, it didn't really look like a cave, the stone walls covered in bright Persian rugs, candles illuminated the walls. She sat on the settee with her legs thrown over the arm of the chair, on hand twirling a peice of strawberry hair through her fingers, the other propping up the red novel entitled 'Tales from Eastern Persia'.

Her features were small, dainty, but it just added to the obviousness of her beauty, unlike his sister whose was more subtle. She looked like her Mother, undeinably so, just as his sister and they did with their Father. Her hair was a pale strawberry blond cut into a long bob, much against her Mother's will, she was tall, very thin, although she had always been, a dancer's body that she acquired from her Mother and Grandmother. Her eyes were a pale blue, her lips a plush pink, her skin a nice peach color, she was a year younger than him, between him and Misha, yet he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Are you almost done? I can hear your scratching and its driving me insane."

He smirked at her even though she couldn't see it, "You are very impatient Ms. Giry." she rolled her eyes and threw a throw pillow at him, which he skillfully dodged. "I find that quite rude."

"I find the fact that your creeper tendencies to sketch people without their knowledge rude."

He could hear the sarcasm in her voice and he knew she was only joking, he liked that she felt comfortable enough to be rude to him, she was usually so shy and polite. He liked that he could get that vivacious side out of her, that he was one of the only that got to see that side, that got to be apart of that.

"Let's go skating."

She furrowed her brows in thought as she turned her body to face him, he was sitting there, sketchbook in hand, an excited gleam in his eyes and a small smile on his lips. He looked handsome, not that he always didn't, there was no denying that obvious fact. But right now he looked so unlike his normal confident self, the one that he showed to the world, he looked like the excited little boy she knew growing up, he looked gentle and soft, the smile on his lips face instead of a smirk. She liked it, she found that she liked it even more because he really only showed that side to her, it made her feel special.

She liked Demitri, she had always been rather fond of him, but now she found that she liked him even more as they got older. She didn't think of him as a brother, even when they had been children she never thought of him as family, Theo on the other hand she did, Misha was her sister, but Demitri, no. She had just never been able to, maybe it was the way she found his gaze from the audience when she was onstage, or the genuine smile he had in his eyes when they talked, how gently he spoke to her but with no less sarcasm and playful banter.

She loved him, and it scared her.

"Okay."


End file.
